


The Ghosts of Christmas Past

by Misnamedhellion



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Other, Post-Finale, Prison, Siblings, Sorry this got darker than I expected, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misnamedhellion/pseuds/Misnamedhellion
Summary: Charlotte remembers a family Christmas.
Post-finale angst. Written for the #Poeparty Secret Santa for knallkorker, from the prompt: Something involving Charlotte Bronte where she is not the big villain. 
Merry Christmas!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Knallkorkar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knallkorkar/gifts).



“Lights out”   
The abrupt call rang through the prison, and within the minute all of the lights had been snuffed. The un-plastered brick walls that caged the prisoners turned into dark, looming oppressors in the shadow of the moon. The thin bars on the windows cast sharp shadows on the cobbled floor. Charlotte sat on the rickety wooden bed that was the only piece of furniture she had been given, and wrapped the thin woollen blanket around her shoulders. She could hear her neighbours shuffling around, and the faint drone of snoring coming from the end of the corridor. She sat in the beam of light from the window, and let her mind wander away from the horror in front of her.  
The only thing that Charlotte could see from her prison cell was a strip of sky through the narrow, barred window. As was normal of December in England, the sky was nothing special to look at - grey and oppressive - but it still represented freedom to those who had none. In contrast to the blank, bleak, square cell that she had been consigned to, the sky was a canvas of possibility, and of space. She missed the wide open spaces of home; Haworth, where fields went on as far as the eye could see. December was her favourite time of year. At this time of year, the greenery that she loved so much would be hidden by a blanket of fresh snow – breathing new life into the countryside. The cold would drive all of the people into their houses, and she would curl up by the roaring fire with her family around her.

//////// 

"Pass the chocolates" Emily murmured from the well-worn sofa. Her voice was barely audible as she lay face down in a cushion. Anne lifted the box off of her lap, and stretched her arm towards her sister with minimum effort. Reluctantly, Emily sat up. With an over dramatic sigh, she made a show of moving to grab the box from her younger sister, who was leaning against the side of the sofa. Charlotte did not look up from the other side of the room, but she chuckled to herself as she listened to her sisters, and continued writing at the escritoire. They each wore simple day dresses, and their hair was unbound. The societal dictates that bound them throughout the day had been left at the door. The fire crackled in the grate, and the smoky aroma of burning wood filled the cosy room.  
Branwell walked into the sitting room swaying slightly on his feet, and greeted his sisters with a large smile that betrayed his inebriated state. His jacket was crushed, and his neck tie had been undone. It was draped around his neck haphazardly, and his shirt was untucked.  
"SISTERS!" he exclaimed. Emily and Charlotte made no move to acknowledge their brother, but Anne looked up with a genuine smile and a giggle. 

"Brother dear, will you come and join us?”

“Of course Annie, it’s not often I get to be in the exalted company of all three of my fine sisters!” He gestured wildly – pointing to all three of the young woman before him – and flopped down in the chair nearest the fire. He ran the fingers of his left hand through his foppish, brown curls with a dramatic flourish. 

“It’s so good to see you Bran, I thought for sure that we wouldn’t see you till tomorrow at morning service.” Anne said.

“As if I would forgo the company of three of the most beautiful and talented ladies of my acquaintance!”

Charlotte put down her pen, making sure that the ink didn’t spill over her paper, and turned to look at her brother. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but I do wish that you hadn’t been so free with the liquor. Father won’t be pleased to see you in such a state.”

“Hush Lotte my girl – it’s Christmas! Father cannot object to a Christian man toasting the birth of the baby Jesus.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. Turning back to the papers on her writing table, she checked what she had written and stood up. Walking over behind Branwells chair, she put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. Without saying a word she let go, and moved over to the sofa. Lifting Emily’s feet up, she sat down on the sofa cushions and placed her sister’s legs on her lap. “It is good to see you.” She smiled over at him with a small smile.

“And you. So…do tell, what have you been secretly writing in the corner away from prying eyes?” Branwell sat forward with an exaggerated quizzical eyebrow. Anne looked at her older sister with interest. 

“If you must know, I’ve started outlining my follow up novel.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with the passion for her writing, and with sparks of inspiration. Emily and Anne leaned in with interest and Branwell lost his polished ennui and engaged with a genuine interest and pride in his sisters. 

 /////////

Charlotte remembered that night vividly, even as she sat huddled in her cell. She had discussed the outline of the novel that had become Shirley, and they had spent hours exploring the characters and world that she would later put to paper. They had talked into the wee hours until the chocolate box was depleted, and mugs of tea had been drained many times over. It was those long nights that she missed the most. Her siblings had been her greatest supporters, and collaborators, and she missed them with all of her heart. She would do anything for them. Had done anything for them – her current circumstances were testament to that fact. A cloud went across the moon, and her room was plunged further into shadow. She glanced away from the window, and lay down on her bed. She closed her eyes, and imagined herself back in Haworth. She was lying on the sofa, her siblings around her. She could feel the warmth of the fire. She could smell the scent of smoke and chocolate. A small smile crossed her lips, as she fell asleep far away from the prison cell of reality. Family. She did it for family, and she would do it all again.


End file.
